


The Rose

by DualWieldingCousland (DualWieldingMama)



Series: When Life Gives You a Blight ... [11]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 01:55:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5187755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualWieldingMama/pseuds/DualWieldingCousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The group finally has a chance to rest for a day or two, and Alistair has a plan he wants to try and carry out.  Will things work out the way he hopes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rose

**Author's Note:**

> Edited 9/10/16 to include awesome art commissioned from artisticallyamber.tumblr.com/ at the end of the fic. 
> 
> (Note – because I haven’t fully written the bit that comes before this, I just want to say that this will take place after freeing Connor from the demon, but before waking Eamon. Alistair has already revealed that he is a prince, but has not given her the rose yet. As clarification, they went to visit the Circle AFTER defending Redcliff from the undead but before ridding Connor of the demon. No blood magic here.)
> 
> (also note - this was an idea I had for the “Alistair telephone game” on Tumblr but ended up not using it because I couldn’t get it to flow right in under 2000 words (a typical problem for me, apparently). So, I went ahead and finished in in a way I liked, and decided to post it anyway… And I have a different fic ready for the telephone game.)

It had to be perfect.  Maker’s breath, it _had_ to be perfect.  Alistair ran from room to room searching for everything he needed, or … everything he thought he needed, anyway.  There was a brief pause when he realized this all seemed very familiar, but he shrugged it off.  He was fairly certain that if he asked Leliana again, she’d say he needed something expensive and Orlesian; if he asked Zevran, he’d probably turn as red as his fellow warden’s hair … and if he asked Morrigan, he would likely be told he needed to just … not.  He thought about asking Sten, but what little he’d figured out about the Qunari told him he was likely to just not get an answer … or get challenged to another duel.  Wynne had been the only moderately helpful one, but even she hadn’t been able to resist suggesting something a bit out of his comfort zone.

A few days before they had reached Kinloch Hold, he had discovered that her name day was coming up.  It would be the first without her family, and he was desperate to make it a good one … or, at least as good as it could be during a blight when you were one of the last Ferelden Grey Wardens.   _She_ had convinced Teagan to allow them at least two days to rest before heading for Denerim to find Brother Genitivi.  The group was just too exhausted to march along potentially dangerous roads, and they needed time to replenish their healing poultices and other supplies.  And to be honest, the celebration in the tavern the first night had delayed her recovery.

That didn’t give him much time to put his plan into action, but he was determined to make it work.  It was shortly before dinner on the second day when he knocked on the door to the room she’d been given.  He couldn’t stop fidgeting as he waited for the familiar sound of the latch being moved.  He could hear Jasper snuffling around the edge of the door, could make out the barest of shadows as the mabari’s nose moved back and forth.  But he couldn’t seem to hear her.  Was she not in her room?  He was about to knock again when he heard her familiar laugh down the hall.  He turned just in time to see her walking with Teagan, arms clasped behind her back, obviously finding humor in something the man had just said.  

“You _can’t_ be serious.   _That_ was why he was covered in mud?”

He could see Teagan’s answering nod and felt a knot start up in his stomach.  Not only was she walking with Teagan, he was telling _that_ damned story … one he had wanted to tell her tonight!  He’d known she’d been curious ever since he’d mentioned it in the chantry before they’d faced off against the undead.  There just hadn’t been the time to reminisce.  But he’d planned on that being part of the evening … and Teagan had to go and ruin it.  

“Ah, I see someone else desires your attention, my lady.”  Teagan took her hand and lifted it to his lips, brushed a soft kiss against her skin and bowed.  “I do hope to see you at dinner, Lady Cousland.”  He turned and smiled at the other warden.  “Alistair, it is good to see you.  I hope you will be joining us for dinner as well.  Isolde wishes to thank you again for saving her son.”

It was all Alistair could do to keep himself from simply saying they wouldn’t be there.  He hadn’t even _asked_ her yet.  Maybe she’d rather attend dinner in the castle’s dining hall?  It would be more like her previous name days, at least.  Maker, what if she said no?  “We … perhaps, Uncle,” was all the response he managed to get out.  He was grateful that Teagan didn’t press further, excusing himself to attend to his brother.

“Did you need me for something, Alistair?”

He swallowed thickly, clasping his hands behind his back so he wouldn’t fidget in front of her.  Maker, why was he so nervous all of a sudden?  Well, to be fair, it wasn’t _all of a sudden_ ; it was all the time when it came to being around her.  But he’d rather be nervous and have her with him than the other way ‘round.  “I … ah, yes, well … I, um ….”  He sighed and hung his head, trying to focus.  “What I was trying to say was … well, I know you just came back from one with Teagan, but … I was maybe kind of hoping that you … would want to go for a little walk?  Perhaps with me?”

She tilted her head to one side, watching him as he kept rolling onto the balls of his feet and back again.  She couldn’t quite figure out why he was keeping his hands behind his back, but decided it wasn’t really _that_ important.  “Teagan just took me on a tour of the castle; I _think_ he forgot that I’d been here before.”  She smiled and reached out to rest a hand on his arm when she saw his smile falter.  “But, as long as you’re not taking me on the same tour, I’d _love_ to go for a walk with you.  Let me see if Sten will take Jasper for a walk of his own.”  

~~~~~~~~     ~~~~~~~~    ~~~~~~~~    ~~~~~~~~    ~~~~~~~~    ~~~~~~~~    

They made their way down several dirt paths, all narrower than he remembered; some appeared almost ready to drop them into the river below.  On more than one occasion, she asked to hold onto him so she didn’t slip.  At least, that’s what he told himself; surely she had no other reason for wanting to hold his hand … or did she?  

_Finally_ , he led her toward a small clearing.  “Close your eyes?”  He gave her hand a squeeze, adding a soft “Please?” when she started to ask why.  When she did, humoring him he was certain, he darted off to pull a large blanket out from behind one of the trees.  After spreading it out, he reminded her to keep her eyes _closed_.  “Not quite ready!”  

“Alistair, what are you doing?”

“Noooothing.”  

“Liar,” she laughed, covering her eyes with her hands to help resist the urge to peek.

He darted behind one tree, then another, and then a third.  “Blast it all … where is that bloody basket?”  

“What was that?”

“Nothing; be just one more minute!”  He started running around the clearing, frantically looking for the basket he’d carefully hidden just a couple hours before.  Finally, he saw it sitting just a few feet away from the tree closest to Regan; how they’d both missed seeing it as they approached, he didn’t know … but he _was_ grateful.  “There you are.”  He rushed over and grabbed the basket.  Looking over to make sure she was still covering her eyes, he took in the slight flush on her cheeks, the smile bringing the corners of her lips upward just a hair and the way she didn’t seem to care that the wind was mussing her hair.  He found he couldn’t resist; he slipped over and leaned in close … just barely _not_ touching her.  “Keeping your eyes closed?”

She gasped, fighting the urge to move her hand, look over at him … anything.  His breath tickling at her skin sent shivers down her spine.  She didn’t trust her voice, resorting to a simple nod as she waited for whatever he was planning next.  She could hear him walking away, boots crunching leaves and twigs as he moved.  What in the Maker’s name was he _doing_?  

He grinned, watching her catch her bottom lip between her teeth.  He caught a small gasp he was sure she’d have preferred stayed hidden and almost decided to cut her suspense short … almost.  But he really wanted this to be perfect, and it would take just a little more setup to make it so.  All he needed to do was spread out the contents of the basket and lead her over.  He carefully pulled item after item from the basket setting things just so on the blanket.

She could hear the occasional clink of what sounded like dishes making contact with each other, growing more and more curious.  “Alistair?”  Maker’s ass, what was he doing?  She smelled fire!  “Can I open my eyes now?  Please?”

“Almost done!”  He scanned the layout of the blanket and smiled.  Surely she would like it, right?  Maker, he hoped she liked it.  He ran over and took her hand.  “Keep them closed just a _little_ longer … and come this way.”  He gently led her toward the blanket, taking care to advise her of any roots or rocks that might get in the way.  “And … you can open your eyes.”

She felt him release her hand, letting it fall to her side as her eyes slowly opened … and she just … stared.  There was a large blanket spread out in front of her with several trays of food.  Several candles, secured on short stakes, surrounded the blanket, enveloping the small area in a warm glow.  And there was Alistair, smiling nervously, extending a hand toward the set up.  “Alistair, what …?”

“Surprise.”  He guided her to the blanket, made sure she sat down and was as comfortable as possible before he took a seat across from her.  He _wanted_ to sit next to her … to drape an arm around her and hold her close while they ate.  But nerves, and uncertainty, and … well … more nerves stopped him.  He still didn’t quite know how she felt; he _thought_ he was reading signals correctly, could swear she was flirting with him, but then he’d see or hear her flirting with Zevran … or laughing with Leliana and tiny doubts would creep into his mind.

“You … you did this … all this … for me?”  She couldn’t believe her eyes.  No one had gone through this much trouble for her since … well, she couldn’t remember a time.  “But … why?”

“You … well, you said your name day was coming up ….”  He started fiddling with the hem of his tunic, not really knowing what to do with his hands.  “I … um, I did the math and figured that … today … was your … name day?”  Alistair looked up, caught her eye and had to pause a moment … take a breath.  He could see tears forming in the corner of her eyes and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.  “And … I … well, I know it’s your first one after … well, after everything, and I wanted to try and make it special … or at least better, and ….”  His voice trailed off as he continued to watch for any sign that he’d screwed up somehow … again.

She didn’t know what to say.  Regan hadn’t expected anyone to be listening, let alone _remember_ when she’d answered Bodahn’s question.  But here she was, staring at an elaborate set up to celebrate a day she wasn’t sure would matter any longer.  She reached up, wiped a tear away before it managed to streak down her cheek and just … smiled at him.  She could think of nothing to say that would convey exactly how this … his surprise … made her feel.  She bit down harder on her lip, willing herself _not_ to cry.

“Regan?”  Alistair watched her … waited for some sort of reaction so he could gauge just how badly he’d messed up or misread the signs he _thought_ he’d been getting.  “I … I’m sorry.  I guess I should have ….”

“Thank you.”

“… asked you before I ….  What was that?”  

She watched his eyes go wide as he looked from the blanket back to her, finally noticing the quivering smile on her face.  She was fighting back the tears, barely.  “It’s perfect,” she whispered, reaching out for him.  She wanted to touch him … hold his hand, his leg … _something_ so she knew this wasn’t a dream.  When she felt his hand slip into hers, she squeezed and pulled herself a little closer.  “Thank you, Alistair.  It’s … it’s wonderful.  I can’t believe you did all this … just for me.”

He smiled, reached out with a shaking hand to wipe a tear away before she had the chance.  “So I did alright?”  Her answering nod had his heart swelling; despite the tears, she looked _happy_ about it.  “I’m glad.  I … I wanted to do something that … I don’t know ….”  In truth, he wanted to do something that was just _theirs_.  He figured the others would likely be doing their own thing to celebrate her name day, if they’d overheard or remembered.  But he wanted something to be just between the two of them.    “Shall we eat?”

“Let’s … before I say or do something else to embarrass myself more.”

~~~~~~~~     ~~~~~~~~    ~~~~~~~~    ~~~~~~~~    ~~~~~~~~    ~~~~~~~~    

She’d lost track of time somewhere around the dessert.  The candles were still going strong, but night had come upon them quicker than she’d realized.  The meal had been pleasant enough –meat and cheeses with a loaf of bread and a bottle of ale.  Regan had laughed as Alistair tried to hoard the cheese without being too obvious about it, though he _had_ shared some of the better pieces.  Dessert had been an apple pie that Alistair had somehow spirited away from the kitchens.  

After the dishes had been cleaned up, they just … sat and talked.  Alistair _finally_ explained the whole ‘covered in mud’ thing he’d mentioned.  He was pleasantly surprised that Teagan _hadn’t_ spoiled the story, only explaining that he’d found a young Alistair under a tree limb, caked in mud upon returning to Redcliff castle one evening, long ago.  She told him of the time she’d ended up soaking wet because she and an old friend were hiding from his sibling and wound up falling into a stream.  They shared little stories of their pasts … things no one else in their group knew, laughing and ghosting barely-there touches over arms and legs and cheeks.  

While she enjoyed the last little bit of pie on her plate, Alistair reached into the basket and pulled out one more surprise.  He held it out to her, smiling nervously.  “Do … do you know what this is?”  

“I’m … going to guess it’s your new weapon of choice?”  His smile was contagious, tickling at the edges of her lips before she broke into a smile of her own.  “I think it suits you.”

He laughed, glad to see her eyes twinkling in the candlelight.  “Yes, that’s right!”  He waved his arm about just slightly, as if he were flailing with a sword.  “Watch as I thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements!  Feel my thorns, darkspawn!  I will overpower you with my rosy scent!”  He had to stop a moment to control his own laughter, though she was in no better condition – doubled over fighting a fit of giggles next to him.  He finally cleared his throat, struggling to keep a straight face as he met her eyes.  “Or, it could just be a simple rose; I know that’s pretty dull in comparison.”

“It’s beautiful, Alistair.”  She reached out, finally able to still the laughter that had been creeping back up.  Fingertips ghosted over the petals as she watched him.  “Where’d you find it?  I don’t remember seeing any rose bushes in Redcliff … even in the castle gardens.”

“I … I picked it in Lothering.”  He fiddled with the stem, watching her fingers dance over the petals softly.  “I … remember thinking … how could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness?”  He looked away for a moment, grabbed the almost empty bottle of ale and took a sip … then another, and sighed.  “I … probably should have left it, but I couldn’t.  The darkspawn would come, and their taint would destroy it.  So, I’ve had it ever since.  I’ve been waiting for … a good time to give it to you, and … well … I was hoping this was that time?”

She just smiled at him, unable to find words to say everything going through her head.  She nodded faintly, bringing her hand down to brush against his before grasping the stem.  It took a moment to finally get her mouth, voice, and brain in sync, but she finally managed to whisper, “I love it.  Thank you.”  

He flushed slightly as her fingers danced along his skin.  Maker, her touch was so light … so soft ….  “I just thought … here I am, doing all this complaining day after day … and you haven’t exactly had an easy time of it yourself.  You’ve had none of the good experiences of being a Grey Warden since your Joining – not a word of thanks or congratulations.”  He sighed softly, brought his fingers up to brush against her cheek without realizing it.  “It’s been all death and fighting and suspicion and tragedy.  I just … I thought that maybe I could … say something; tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this … darkness.”  

The feel of his fingers against her cheek made her go warm all over.  The calloused skin was surprisingly gentle as it caressed along her cheek and jaw.  It took all she had not to just close her eyes and lean into the touch.  But she didn’t want to stop looking at him, didn’t want to miss a second of that smile that was growing on his face … or the pinkish tint that started to color his cheeks.  “Thank you, Alistair,” she finally whispered, leaning over just enough to brush soft lips against his cheek in a few gentle kisses.  “You have no idea how much this means to me.”

He turned his head just enough to look at her, nearly nose to nose now.  All he’d have to do is tilt his head just slightly and close the short distance between them.  His heart beat fast in his chest as he heard her inhale … saw her eyes start to flutter shut.  “Happy name day,” he whispered as his eyes slid closed as well.  He started in, head angling for the best approach ….

“I think her mabari’s got the scent!”

“Do you think they’re alright?”

“Why would they be all the way out _here_?”

“ _Alistair_ likely led them down a wrong path; he has proven to be as ineffective at map-reading as he is at being a Grey Warden.”

The pair jumped apart, nearly knocking candles over in their haste to put some distance between them.  Regan looked at him through half-closed eyes and smiled, biting her lip.  “That was ….”  She glanced over her shoulder in the direction she thought the voices were coming from.  “Thank you, Alistair.  Let’s see if we can’t get these candles out before they find us and start making comments.”

“Yes, let’s.”  Alistair hurried to start blowing out candles, trying to ignore both the warmth in his stomach from their evening, and his annoyance at the others … especially Morrigan … for intruding on what had been a nearly magical evening.

**Author's Note:**

> You can see the full-size image here: http://artisticallyamber.tumblr.com/post/150220886292/commission-for-dualwieldingtymber-of-her-cousland


End file.
